Naked in the rain
by jo taylor
Summary: Captain Janeway is presumed killed on an away mission, leaving Chakotay to steer her crew home. Angst, angst and moer angst.


Disclaimer: Voyager, its characters, etc, belong to Paramount and Viacom et al. The story idea is mine.

Authors note: This is my one and only foray into J/C. Rated PG for one almost naughty bit. Hope you like it. 

Feedback always welcome - sbenson@cwcom.net

NAKED IN THE RAIN

By Jo Taylor

Three weeks and he still could not make himself sit in that chair. He prowled the Bridge with a brooding insular air, every movement sending out warning signals. From Voyager's Tactical position Tuvok's eyebrow rose in its usual subtle manner, indicating his deeper curiosity. Chakotay noticed the unwelcome attention with irritation, choosing to ignore it. He was well aware that he should be doing his best to instil a stronger sense of confidence in his crew, and did not need the Vulcan exec to tell him his current behaviour was making the Bridge officers nervous.

Not having found her body... Having to leave her behind, lost in that lonely place, and continue on homeward with no sense of finality left him feeling sick and empty. 

If only he could bring himself to sit in that goddamn chair!

Last night had been the worst so far. Meditation had not helped and his spirit guide could offer no comfort; his father bringing no words of succour to help him deal with this loss. He had hoped that Kathryn would choose to come to him now that she walked the same existential plane; but sleep only brought the nightmares again, forcing him to relive every heart-scarring moment of the failed rescue attempt. 

If only he had heeded his gut instinct and insisted that she stay on board Voyager. If only he had quoted those Starfleet regulations she was so fond of: 'No starship captain should be placed in jeopardy by accompanying away teams on potentially dangerous missions.' Not that this dictate had ever stopped Kathryn Janeway, of course. Besides, he respected her far too much to exercise the regulationary right his position as Executive Officer granted him. Kathryn was neither stupid nor reckless and would never place her crew in a situation she would not readily face herself. In this regard they were very much alike. Deep down he knew he was not to blame for this tragedy, but the rights and wrongs of the matter did little to alleviate his feelings of culpability. This mission had seemed so damned innocuous: a simple field assignment to gather plant samples!

Preliminary scans of the planet's surface had revealed no environmental hazards; no instability in the continental crust that could have been regarded as a cause for concern. Yet the seismic landslide had come like a bolt from Hades: Janeway and her team already caught in the peripheral fury of the avalanche before Voyager had a chance to warn them of the danger. Kathryn's alarmed request for assistance cut brutally short by a thunderous roar. The screams and cries for help as the team was swept along by a river of earth and rock still echoed vividly in Chakotay's mind. The search team had feverishly excavated the area, his heart raging at the impotency of his situation as he worked beside them. 

When the cry of discovery had sounded he had been first to the scene, his relief at finding at least two of his missing comrades overshadowed by the absence of the captain. Severely injured but still alive, the casualties were transported directly to sickbay and the search for Kathryn Janeway continued. For hours more they had toiled on, frustrated in their attempts by some unidentified natural interference that made their tricorder readings useless.

Chakotay had refused to give up, his determination contagious, spurring his near exhausted team on to even greater efforts. The discovery of her combadge had briefly reinforced their flagging spirits until darkness eventually brought the starkness of reality. 

A strong, insistent grip on his shoulder had finally stilled Chakotay's bloodied hands. Tuvok's calm words cutting painfully into his chest, "Commander, I think we have to consider the fact that the captain is irretrievably lost." In that moment Tuvok's tightly drawn features showed more emotion than Chakotay had ever seen the Vulcan display; and that more than anything had threatened to convince him she was gone. 

The scorching sun had long since set, leaving his back feeling as though the skin had been stripped from his spine; but the pain hardly registered in his numbed mind. A rising tide of unremitting adrenaline made him dig resolutely at the earth beneath his knees, the rock cutting viciously into his scrabbling fingers as they gouged into the mountain of debris, unwilling to concede failure. Tuvok had tried to stop him injuring himself further, but Chakotay had momentarily rounded on the officer like a cornered animal: pain, denial, and desperation briefly reflected in his eyes before he could completely shutter his emotions.

He continued his pacing of the Bridge, closing his eyes against these images that continually plagued him: the accompanying emotional pain equally insistent. Yet he found it impossible to confine his misery to the seemingly endless hours of his off duty periods. Never had he felt a loss so keenly. 

"Captain? M-class planet coming within range." Paris' subdued tones sounded overly loud in the tomblike silence of the Bridge.

"Let's take a look. Standard orbit, Mr. Paris. Harry, get me all you can on conditions down there. I'll be in my ready room."

He could almost feel the tension flow after him in a sighing wake of relief as the door began to close on his rigid back. Shaking his head, he sat on the couch in her ready room. He could no more bring himself to utilise her desk any more than he could make himself sit in her command chair. Over the last few weeks it had become his custom to use the far end of the couch, dragging up a table to work on; but today he found it impossible to sit still. Instead of forcing himself to concentrate on the work before him, he went to stand at the window instead, watching the blue-green oasis growing steadily larger as Voyager drew nearer its orbit. It looked so much like Earth. Kathryn would have delighted in the view...

Chakotay stiffened, firmly focusing on the reason for their presence here. Neelix had been threatening them all with a strict diet of liola root if an alternative staple could not be produced soon. Yet another blow to crew moral that would be better avoided, Chakotay grimaced to himself. Maybe they would find the needed supplies here that Kathryn had hoped to find on the world that had claimed her life. He let go the breath he had not realised he was holding, feeling some of the tightness leave his chest. No matter what he did, it was incredibly difficult not to think of her. He whispered her name softly, running a slightly trembling hand across his face. If she did not come to him tonight he knew he would have to go in search of her. The crew would be fine with Tuvok as captain, he assured himself. Besides, if he were truly honest, the only real regret he would have was leaving B'Elanna Torres. If anyone could possibly understand his reasons for choosing this path, it would be B'Elanna; though he doubted she would ever forgive him. The Death Ritual was not unknown to the chief engineer; she had seen him perform the rite when his father had died, and witnessed all the pain, misery and guilt that had led him into such a dangerous undertaking. 

He rested his head against the cold glass of the window. His final decision rested solely on the events of this night. If Kathryn did not visit his visions this time, he would have to join her ... wherever she was.

"Captain Chakotay?" Harry Kim's voice intruded softly on his thoughts.

"Yes."

"Sir, I have the report you wanted."

"Put it through to my console." He frowned, irritated by the man's hesitant manner. It wasn't just Kim though, he reminded himself. The whole crew was still tiptoeing about in his presence as though he were a sleeping Targ. Still ultra efficient as usual, but trying hard to shy clear of his uncertain temper. Only B'Elanna had seemed willing to challenge the wall of aggressive isolation he had barricaded himself behind. A futile endeavour on her part, he thought grimly, but being B'Elanna she had tried anyhow. He understood her methods far too well for her to succeed; knowing exactly how to keep her at arm's length until she either respected his privacy or pushed a confrontation. On this occasion she had wisely chosen to back off.

He swung the console screen toward him, still unwilling to sit at Kathryn's desk, if only for a moment. The sensor information looked promising: flora and fauna similar to Earth, yet no higher life form presence detected. There was some indication of adverse weather activity that could interfere with scanner readings, but nothing overtly dangerous. He felt his stomach pitch unpleasantly, realising that Kathryn had probably read a very similar report prior to her leaving Voyager for what turned out to be the last time. His eyes scanned the data again, and for a brief moment hope warred with desperation on his suddenly pale face. "Maybe here ... now," he breathed. Schooling his features, he hit his combadge.

"Mr. Tuvok, assemble me an away team," he announced. "I'll join them in the transporter room in five minutes."

As he headed determinedly across the Bridge, Tuvok caught his eye. "Captain. Are you sure you should lead this mission?" The Vulcan's total lack of tone was the closest he could come to outright censure when it came to dealing with Chakotay.

"I'll be fine," he replied with a curt nod, barely breaking step.

B'Elanna watched his departure with deepening concern. She had only been on the Bridge to supervise the upgrades on the main console, but now she made her way toward Tuvok. That look on Chakotay's face was one she had encountered only once before and had fervently hoped never to see again. "Tuvok, may I speak with you privately?"

With a raised eyebrow he indicated for her to precede him, nodding toward the ready room. Tuvok had no problem at all with sitting at Captain Janeway's desk, gesturing for the chief engineer to be seated. "Now, Lieutenant, how may I be of assistance?"

"I'm worried about Chakotay," B'Elanna began, then came to a grinding halt, her face twisting into a scowl.

Tuvok's expression remained passive, but his head tilted slightly as he said, "Please, continue."

"I believe he's far more affected by Captain Janeway's death than any of us realise. I think he..." she paused, then taking a steadying breath announced, "I'm worried he may try an attempt at the Death Ritual."

Tuvok straightened in his chair, clasping his hands before him. "Explain."

"When Chakotay's father died we were together on..." she frowned again, her face curtained with caution.

"There seems little point in being evasive at this juncture, Lieutenant. We are a long way from home and I am certainly in no position to relay intelligence reports to Starfleet Command."

"A Maquis base," B'Elanna continued, deliberately sketchy. "The name doesn't matter. The point to this is what happened when news of his father's death reached Chakotay. Obviously it took weeks to find us." She looked away for a moment, gathering the unpleasant memories she needed to relate. "Chakotay's relationship with his father had always been of a turbulent nature. They had never agreed on much, but both nurtured a deep respect and love for one another. The news hit Chakotay hard. I'd never seen him so obsessed about anything before. He meditated for days, trying to establish contact with his father's spirit. Each failure seemed to rob him of his strength of will, as though he were being drawn inexorably toward a course of action that both encouraged him, but at the same time disturbed him. At that time we were pretty close. We'd been though a lot together..."

Tuvok listened in silence, his face remaining expressionless as B'Elanna's voice lowered slightly. Her eyes grew distant as she became absorbed in the past, her narration almost soliliquial. "Finally he told me of his decision to search for his father on the 'other side'. He asked me to watch over him during the ceremony, knowing it would mean death. My part was to ensure that no-one interfered."

"You would have watched him die and made no attempt to stop him?"

"It was Chakotay's choice," she defended. "Who was I to challenge his beliefs. My own heritage has similar rituals. He chose me for this role because he knew I would understand. Trusted me to respect his right and stand by him no matter what happened." B'Elanna shook her head. "I'm not sure that I could do it again, even if he asked me. I'm just grateful that he changed his mind and did not complete the ritual."

"What occurred to make him revise his initial intention?"

"At first he refused to discuss it, but then several weeks later we were trapped on the Barrion Heights. The Cardassians had us pinned down pretty good and were trying to starve us out. I can't even remember how we began on the subject, but Chakotay started to tell me about the visions he had experienced during the Death Ritual. He had travelled much deeper into the spirit land than was his custom, searching for his father, and was ready to complete the ritual and remain there when he was visited by his spirit guide. Near exhaustion, he staggered on behind her, battling his way through the storm that had suddenly descended and in a clearing of trees he found what he had been looking for: not only his father, but his mother too. She had already completed the ritual, having found her husband and decided not to leave him again. Chakotay told them that he too was going to remain in the spirit land, but they had wanted him to return and live out his life as it was intended. Only when his father convinced him that they would always be there to help and guide him on that journey, did Chakotay agree to their wishes." She shook her head to clear the picture from her mind. "I honestly thought he was dead," she shuddered. "When he at last started to breathe I..."

The beep of Tuvok's communicator interrupted them. "Commander, the away team has lost contact with Captain Chakotay," Harry Kim announced. "Sensors show there is a major storm front heading directly for them. If we don't get them off the surface now, there's a good chance they could be stranded down there for hours."

"Can you locate the captain's com-signal?" Tuvok asked.

"No, sir. Lieutenant Clark found his combadge discarded at the beam down site."

Tuvok's face hardened as he exchanged a look with Torres. "Have you tried a sensor scan?"

"The atmospheric interference is playing havoc with the sensors. It's impossible to distinguish any reliable readings."

"Very well, Mr. Kim. Transport the away team on board immediately." 

"But what about Chakotay?" Torres demanded, getting to her feet. "It's fairly obvious what he intends to do down there. We have to stop him."

"Would he not need someone to attend him through this ritual, as you were?"

"No, he's clearly planned this so he won't be disturbed." B'Elanna began to pace agitatedly. "He'll be looking for a specific type of location. If I remember correctly, the surroundings can be of major importance. This should give us a little more time to find him before it's too late."

"Exactly how does death occur?"

She looked at him with a steady gaze. "He just wills himself to die."

The storm was nearing its zenith when Chakotay found the place he had been searching out. Ancient trees towered upward curtaining the sky with a rippling ceiling of darkest green, their lower branches lashing over him as he pushed his way through the heavy arms of foliage into the clearing beyond. Coming out from the shelter of overhanging limbs, he faltered slightly as the full force of the rainstorm struck him. Battling his way to the centre of the clearing, he tore off the soaked, clinging material of his uniform, intending to enter death as he had life. Howling winds cycloned the thunderous torrents of rain into a whirlpool that surged around the clearing like a screeching banshee. Standing naked, Chakotay raised his arms to the roiling grey darkness above him as if in supplication to the gods, giving vent to all the pent up grief and anger that had permeated his soul these last few weeks. His piercing scream snatched away by the wind until his lungs burned. Sinking to his knees in the cold mud, he carefully unwrapped the medicine bundle that had been clenched in his hand. The smooth stone pulsated warmly against his palms. In this place he felt no need to use anything other than the medicine stone and the powerful, unleashed elements that surrounded him.

He sensed her presence before he saw her; a huge wolf crossing the desert plain toward him, the wisdom of the Sky Spirits in her eyes. She halted a short distance from his kneeling figure, testing the air with her nose, her gentle gaze fixed on him, waiting. He asked again, as he had done every night for the last three weeks, "Is she here? Please, help me find her."

The she-wolf turned, and with one quick glance over her shoulder, headed out across the baking sands. Hope surged through him at her invitation to follow and he eagerly heeled her path, maintaining a respectful distance. As the hours passed his pace began to slow, the heated sand pulling mercilessly at his exhausted feet. Just when he thought he could go no farther, the scenery changed. One moment the sun was blinding him, its rays leaching the moisture from his burning body, and the next a canopy of green was shielding him from a rainy night. The wolf padded steadily on, never once checking to see if he was still trailing her.

A clearing opened in front of them, and sitting on a fallen tree in the centre of the glade was his mother. His heart caught for a moment; not since his father's death had she appeared in any of his dream quests. On those occasions he had always been aware of her presence, but she had remained hidden letting the wisdom flow from his father, just as she had done in life. She was still beautiful, long silken hair hanging to her waist in a wave of ebony, a serene look on her face that he remembered so well.

"Mother," he breathed, taking her hands in the customary salutation of love and respect, kissing the palms that lay so small in his own.

"My son," she smiled sadly at him. "What you seek is not to be found here." 

Her musical voice lifted a weight from his tired body, but her words cut deeply. "Not here! But I do not understand. Kathryn is dead, why does her spirit not walk the plains?"

Beside his mother on her moss-covered seat, a tiny lizard appeared. Never before had Chakotay encountered another spirit guide in his dreaming; yet he at once recognised it for what it was. With a confused glance at his mother and the she-wolf, he turned his attention back to the lizard. He could feel his corporeal body getting weaker, but ignored the warning sensation. He had to know what this meant. If his mother was right and Kathryn was not here did that mean she still lived? Was this Kathryn's guide?! With that thought the landscape changed abruptly. 

The beach was deserted, a full moon shining down onto the cool sand. Chakotay glanced down at the waves gently lapping against his feet. He recognised this setting almost immediately. Kathryn had told him of this place a long time ago; a place she associated with many fond memories. Had she come here to talk to her guide? She must be alive, he assured himself. "Tell me!" he cried at the sky. "Is she alive!"

On the edge of a nearby sand bank both she-wolf and lizard appeared side by side. They waited, watching in silence as he sank to the damp sand, trying to calm his pounding heart. "She lives," he breathed softly.

Consciousness was slow in returning. Throbbing muscles protested as he tried to sit upright, limbs slipping uselessly in the mire of wet mud, until he finally fell back groaning. Every bone and sinew ached excruciatingly. The pounding rain was easing off and he knew that he had to get his body moving again. Dragging himself to his knees, he reached for his sodden uniform. The last thing he needed was for an away team to discover their captain lying naked in a mud slick. The thought of Tuvok's expression to such a sight forced a wry smile from him, and for the first time since the accident he began to feel some kind of hope for the future. The effort it took to clothe himself drained the last reserves of his strength and a suffocating blackness washed over him as he collapsed.

Tricorder readings were erratic at best, but B'Elanna Torres picked up what she thought were Chakotay's life-signs close by. Unsure of what she would find, she ordered the ensign accompanying her to hold his position. If Chakotay was still immersed in his self-induced trance, a sudden interruption could do more harm than good. Determinedly she pushed her way through the wet foliage and found him sprawled face down in the mud, water pooling dangerously close to his face. She smacked the side of the tricorder as the reading fluctuated once again. "Work, dammit!" 

She ran the tricorder over his still form a second time: dehydration, exhaustion and fever. She let go the breath she had been holding. "Torres to Voyager. I've found him. Transport directly to sickbay."

She waited until his body had disappeared, then searched quickly for his medicine bundle. Wrapping the sacred pieces up in the cloth, she was shocked into dropping the stone by the scalding heat radiating from it. Gingerly she reached for it again, but it was now cold; an icy coldness that stung almost as much as the heat. Picking it up in the cloth, she secured it in her pack. With a shrug she dismissed her curiosity, calling out to the waiting ensign to return to the ship.

"Will you stay still, Captain." The holographic doctor's exasperated tone echoed round the almost empty sickbay. "How am I expected to work if you keep moving about like this."

"I feel fine," Chakotay grumbled. "Now let me up from this damned couch."

"You really should rest, Captain." Kes' concerned voice took some of the harshness from Chakotay's features.

"I'll be fine," he repeated, a little less harshly. Turning his attention back to the doctor he growled, "Just put this miraculous recovery down to your expertise."

"Well, yes, I expect you are right." The doctor's chest puffed out. "I am an exceptional practitioner," he announced, modesty not a virtue his programmers had deemed necessary to his role as an emergency back up.

With more difficulty than he had anticipated, Chakotay made his way to the turbolift, coughing slightly as he ordered, "Bridge." 

In the silence that accompanied him he mused again on his recent dreaming experience. He had to believe his vision. Since his encounter with the race that had become known to his ancestors as the Sky Spirits, his belief in the old ways had deepened greatly: And much as he liked to proclaim he was a child of the 24th century, that spiritual part of him had been essential in keeping him sane. 

He strode purposefully onto the Bridge, and for the first time in weeks felt confidently in command of his thoughts. "Tuvok, the ready room, please."

Chakotay settled himself on the couch. Tuvok stood to attention. 

"Sit, Mr. Tuvok. We need to talk." The Vulcan would probably dismiss what he was about to relate in deference to his impeccable logic, Chakotay surmised. Then again, there were parts of Vulcan legend that were not so different from his own and he doubted Tuvok would be in any position to offhandedly contradict the philosophies of his own heritage.

"Kathryn is alive." 

The startlingly bald statement barely incited a raised eyebrow. "On what do you base such an assumption, Captain?"

Vision quests were intensely personal, but Chakotay knew he would have to explain, and in detail, if he were to procure Tuvok's full co-operation. 

After a careful and precise briefing of what had occurred during the dreaming, Tuvok continued to stare at the far wall for a moment as if completing some kind of analysis. "And you believe Captain Janeway is still alive," he asked, "because you saw what you purport to be her spirit guide?"

"I know what this sounds like, Tuvok," Chakotay sighed, and rising went to stare out of the window. "I have never heard of anyone encountering a second guide during the dreaming. It must have marked significance. What if Kathryn had asked her guide to find me? Knowing I would attempt to find her spirit if she had truly passed over."

Tuvok sat perfectly still, a slight frown of concentration furrowing his brow. "Would anyone have talked of such an occurrence as the one you describe?"

"I should think so. When we are taught how to find and communicate with our guides, we are fully versed in what to expect. Taught how to interpret signs; how to focus on what is being related." Chakotay turned to stare at the Vulcan. "My own spirit guide has never lied to me ... never."

"The tricorders failed to find any trace of her life-signs," Tuvok reminded him. 

"No, but then they've been fooled before. I'd rather trust my gut instincts on this one. If there is the remotest chance that she is still alive, we have to go back and look."

"Very well, Captain," Tuvok agreed, rising to his feet. "If that is your order we shall return. As captain you need not justify the legitimacy of such a command. This is, and always has been, your decision to make."

Chakotay nodded his thanks, a small smile touching his lips. "I know. But I wanted you to realise that I wasn't just chasing after a ghost."

She came to semi-consciousness aware of pain unlike any she had ever experienced before. Every part of her body was on fire; even the shallowest breath causing stabbing agony in her sides. Opening her eyes she found herself surrounded by stygian blackness and for a moment panic threatened to overwhelm her; memories of crushing soil and rock compressing the air from her lungs. The groan that escaped her doubled the pain and within the space of a heartbeat blessed oblivion enfolded her again.

The woman who had been watching from the shadows rose softly from her furs and quietly left the hut. The elders would want to be present when the stranger finally regained consciousness. She had sensed the woman's fear and wondered again if they had made the right decision in rescuing her. Yet how could they have left her to die when her own tribe had abandoned her for dead?

Soft voices seeped slowly through her subconscious, little by little raising her awareness until she registered the suffering and exhaustion of her own body; the discomfort serving to bring her to full cognisance. The pain that had consumed every part of her seemed to have eased to a bearable level and she sighed in some relief as she opened her eyes. A dim glow of muted sunshine filtered through the shades covering the window and Kathryn gingerly turned her head to inspect her surroundings. The hut was small, yet comfortably so, a low fire crackling reassuringly at its centre. A mound of furs, similar to the ones on which she lay, were spread on the opposite side of the fire. A gentle looking woman was kneeling attentively on them; smiling as Kathryn momentarily focused on her. A movement by her elbow startled her and she turned her face to be greeted by a pair of moccasined feet. Her gaze flew upwards to an impressive figure hovering over her bed. He was tall, but compactly built, and as her eyes locked on his dark features she felt an incredibly strong flash of emotion; yet despite this feeling of familiarity she did not recognise him.

He hunkered down beside her and spoke softly. The words were entirely incomprehensible, but the concern in his tone was unmistakable. 

"I'm sorry..." her voice croaked alarmingly and she coughed. "I ... I don't understand you." The meagre level of strength she still had seemed to drain from her with the effort to deliver even that short sentence.

Inclining his head in understanding, he picked up her limp hand turning it over. Slipping a small device between their palms, he asked, "Do you hear my words now?"

"Yes," Kathryn nodded slightly. "Yes, I do. Please ... please tell me what happened. I can't seem to remember what..." A tide of panic surged through her and she grasped his hand convulsively. "I can't remember! Please ... tell me ... tell me who I am."

With a firm hand on her shoulder he gently guided her back down to the furs. "You must rest now. There is nothing to be afraid of. Maia will care for you now," he told her, indicating to the woman seated opposite them.

Gracefully he rose to his feet and crossed to the door of the hut where an old man had been waiting unnoticed. "The ancestors were wise in their gift to us," he assured him, and with one last glance at the now sleeping stranger, he left her to Maia's ministrations.

These brief moments of lucidity were to be her last for some days to come as the fever racked her body and delirium consumed her. Maia watched anxiously throughout her sickness, until with some urgency she called Manaya back to the hut almost a day and a half after his first visit. Kathryn moaned as he laid a gentle hand on her brow, frowning. Fever sweat plastered her hair to her skull, her already angular features now seeming to take on a gaunt set, the skin flushed alarmingly.

"This should not be," Manaya muttered to himself. When they had first brought the woman to the camp, Kisin, medicine man to the tribe, had placed her in his care, confident that his protégé was more than capable of treating her seemingly superficial wounds. Her body had been badly battered by falling debris, the skin pierced and scraped by jagged rock; but the wounds had been cleaned and salves applied ... even now, bare days afterward, the scars were starting to heal as expected. But why had the fever not broken? Manaya sighed heavily, firmly tucking the fur cover around his patient. Though it would mean revealing his ignorance, he must go to Kisin and ask for help. 

Maia watched sadly from the corner of the room, aware of Manaya's conflict. He was a proud man and would be chosen as medicine man of the tribe when Kisin departed for the spirit lands. For him to watch this ailing stranger fade away, despite his care, was a blow not only to his self-esteem, but also his conviction that he was a worthy successor. 

Kisin was waiting patiently at the Hogan, his aged frame still upright and strong; wisdom sitting well on his wrinkled face. Slowly he replaced his akunah within its medicine bundle, carefully wrapping the protective hide around his most sacred possessions. He had been in communion with his guide, hoping to seek advice on the stranger within their midst. Her persistent sickness was anathema to him: he knew she was dying and it puzzled him greatly. Manaya had performed his obligation faultlessly; the woman's fate now lay entirely in the hands of the gods.

With head bowed Manaya approached his mentor. Shame filled him, dragging every step. "Do not chastise yourself, Manaya," the old man said gently. "It was only by the will of the gods that she survived the wrath of the mountain. Now we must consult with the spirits."

"Then you know of her continued illness," Manaya said gravely. "I do not understand. I have exhausted all that my knowledge can provide, yet still she tosses with fever and her body wastes away under my very gaze."

Kisin's heart softened. This was his first failure and it hurt. He also knew how much it hurt for him to admit that he was unable to diagnose the problem, let alone cure his patient. Still, these were things Manaya had to experience if he were to learn; these things were impossible to teach.

"Come. We will speak with the spirits together," Kisin repeated, his tone calm and sure as they crossed the Hogan, approaching the altar. Its circular column rose from a metal base nestling in the sandy ground, lights blinking from the panel at its crown. Kisin uttered a brief prayer, laying his hand on the top. Lights danced like tiny forks of lightning in and around his spread fingers as he asked his request in a low voice. A panel opened on the side of the column and Manaya recognised the healing wand as the instrument was extended on a small metal plate. Only once, when he had been a small boy, had he seen it in use. His friend Nana had been seriously mauled by a rogue wild cat and Kisin had been unable to staunch the bleeding. The gathered tribe had known she was dying and had watched in awe as Kisin passed the wand over her injuries; the wounds closing and healing in its wake.

Kisin's gnarled old hand took the wand and handed it to him. "The spirits will guide you."

With trembling hands Manaya accepted the mighty gift, and with renewed confidence strode back to the hut, assured that the healing arts granted by the spirits would not be thwarted this time.

She lay like one dead, having deteriorated further in just the short time he had been away. Only the slight tremors that twitched her limbs indicated that she still retained some measure of life. Maia, seeing the healing wand in Manaya's hand sank down in a gesture of deep respect, wonder lighting her face.

He held the instrument over Kathryn's ashen face for a brief moment, then guided it slowly down the pain-wracked body, holding his breath in awe as the tiny light at its tip pulsed brightly. By the time it reached her toes, her breathing had improved considerably, colour returning to her face. The bruises still stood out lividly against her paler skin, but she seemed much easier; her sleep more natural. 

Manaya felt drained, the lethargy so intense that he almost dropped the wand. It was as if the instrument had conducted part of his vital energy into his patient's body, rejuvenating internal damage that his eyes could not see. Her muscles would still be weak in their wasted state and he instructed Maia that a regime of massage needed to be carried out. When she finally woke again, the treatment would help to strengthen her. The neck also seemed to have suffered major injury, muscles torn and strained beyond their endurance. He would see to these delicate manipulations himself rather than trust Maia's sparse experience. In a way he felt he owed it to this woman after his initial failure.

Sending Maia to retrieve some more of the soporific herbs he used in his medicinal preparations, he found himself alone with his patient for the first time since her arrival. He scanned her fine pale features, so different from the women of his tribe. Her hair a soft, honey-shaded brown rather than brownish black. His fingers traced a delicate, curious line from eyebrow to chin, snatching his hand away guiltily as he heard Maia's approach. He would keep the woman sedated for a short while, until her fever finally broke and her body could set about recovering on its own. He looked forward to the day when he could converse with this woman, finding that she intrigued him deeply. Soon she would be well again, and then they would see.

The kneading fingers massaging her shoulders felt so good, recovering muscles easing under Manaya's skilful hands. Kathryn leaned back slightly, subconsciously trying to deepen the soothing tactile contact. A memory determinedly nudged its way to the front of her relaxed mind and she suddenly had a striking image of other expert hands easing the tension from her neck. An overwhelming sense of uncertainty and longing rose in her chest and she immediately tensed.

Manaya touched the translator device to her hand. "Am I hurting you," he enquired, concern lacing the question. 

"No," she smiled. "No, of course not. I ... I think I just remembered something."

"That's wonderful! Tell me..." Manaya turned her to face him, his eyes filled with pleasure. "Maybe if you speak about it, more will be revealed."

Kathryn tried to concentrate her thoughts; her eyes travelling slowly over Manaya's face until she focused on the mark that adorned his left temple. Mentally she traced the design and suddenly another was overlaid in her mind's eye. An image that brought a sense of strength, loyalty, trust, and much more.

"You've seen something else?" Manaya asked eagerly. 

"It's just a fragment. I can't recall when or where, or even who he is. I'm sure he is important to me. I can feel it here." She pressed a clenched fist to her chest. "Damn it! Why can't I remember." Frustration lashed bitterly through her words and standing abruptly, ignoring the pain it caused, she began pacing the small hut; hands placed on hips, chin jutting firmly. "Hell, I don't even know who I am; how am I supposed to know who anyone else is!"

Manaya rose and took her hand, re-establishing the communication link between them. "I did not understand your words. Tell me, what troubles you so?"

She hated this. Hated not being in control of her own life. Her physical problems would soon be a thing of the past, although the bruises still decorating her body made her look like a marbleised statue. But her mind seemed singularly intent on battling against her psychological recovery, determined to hold back her own memories like jealously guarded secrets. Sighing in defeat, she shook her head. "I shouldn't take my frustrations out on you, Manaya. I'm sorry. It's just that it has been weeks now, and I'm no nearer to discovering who I am or even where I'm from."

"Such things take time," Manaya smiled. "You should rest now."

"Yes, I am feeling a little tired," she admitted. "Goodnight, Manaya."

He waited until she had settled down onto the sleeping furs before taking his leave. Kathryn sighed, staring into the low flames of the fire and concentrating hard on picturing the tattoo design that was so much like Manaya's. She could almost see the man that it belonged to, but his features always remained in shadow. She snuggled down under the thin blanket, the flickering dance of the flames slowly lulling her eyes closed until she at last drifted off to sleep. 

As the full fury of the plasma storm battered the house, they lay beneath the fragile safety of the table, making use of its meagre shelter; anything not bolted down sent flying through the air or crashing to the floor. Glass vials containing her precious experiments shattered, spraying glass every which way. 

"No!" She reached out in horrified protest at their destruction.

"It's all right, Kathryn. It's all right." Strong arms pulled her close against him; his breath comfortingly warm on her neck as his body shielded her the best it could. She buried her face into his shoulder to avoid more flying glass, at the same time drawing solace from the security he offered. The familiar scent of him triggered a flurry of feelings and she clung to him, calling out his name ... "Chakotay!" 

She awoke with a start. A deafening roll of thunder sounded directly overhead and suddenly a blue/white flash of lightning brightened the hut. She sat for several moments trying to distance herself from the storm of her dream, and the one that was forcefully making its presence felt outside. Standing up, she pulled one of the sleeping furs round her shoulders and went to the window. Another fork of lightning split the night sky and within a beat the rain was falling in torrents. Her head ached mildly and she rubbed at the stiff muscles of her neck. The motion reminded her of the man in her dream and the tantalising glimpse of memory her refracted mind had surrendered. The rain falling from the vegetation under her window precipitated yet another image; this time of vegetables growing in a neat plot and of a handcrafted bathtub under open sky. A sharp stab of pain lanced through her temple and she grasped the edge of the window to stop herself from falling. Her mind was a riot of imagery: boxes and equipment; packing to leave; a sense of extreme loss; his muscular frame cutting through the river; the insect traps; the ship...

"Yes!" She staggered across the room and crumpled to the bed in an exhausted heap ecstatic with the knowledge these revelations had brought her. She remembered the ship ... Voyager. The crew ... Tuvok, Paris, B'Elanna, Chakotay ... A strong, clear picture of her first officer leapt to the fore in her thoughts and she could almost hear his voice now, 'Kathryn, are you hurt?'

Kathryn? Yes, that was her name: Kathryn Janeway. She was Kathryn Janeway, captain of the USS Voyager. She lay back and let the memories take her where they willed, recalling serious problems like their struggle to reach home, and trivial matters like how she could never get used to Neelix's coffee substitute. She sighed contentedly for a moment before more disturbing thoughts caught up with her. Why had they left her behind? She remembered collecting plant samples; Pierce and Soonan a few metres away from her, and then that horrendous roar unexpectedly erupting all around them. The sudden rush of debris had seemed to come out of nowhere and within seconds she had felt herself barrelled off her feet. Crushing pressure pushing in from all sides and a feeling of slow suffocation had been the last things she remembered before waking up in this hut.

Yet none of this explained where Voyager was now. Surely they would never have given up their search without finding a body. In her absence Chakotay would now be in command and she simply could not accept the notion that he would have abandoned her here ... so what had happened? An intense feeling of unease settled in the pit of her stomach and she found herself whispering a prayer that her crew was safe and well ... wherever they were.

There was little she could do now. Venturing out into the storm would only serve to impede her full recovery, and she would need to be in the best of health if she was to be any use to her missing crew or herself. Tomorrow she resolved to speak with Manaya. And she really needed to do something about learning the native dialect, however basic. To rely on the tactile translator alone was not particularly wise and could almost be regarded as lazy. Besides, she had always been good at picking up languages, if she remembered correctly; with a smile she filed that one away with the rest of her newly recovered memories.

She sat up abruptly, no longer tired, and nettled by an urgent need to actively do something. The first entry on her mental agenda could not be addressed until the morning, which left her restless and irritable. Since she could not sleep maybe she would be able to meditate for a while. Any morsel of wisdom from her animal guide, no matter how meagre, would be welcome right now. Seating herself comfortably she suddenly realised that she had no akuna to help assist her in achieving the correct mental disposition, and she could hardly go and ask the locals if they had an alternative. Not that she would avail herself of such a substance, Kathryn assured herself. Chewing leaves to produce a narcotic euphoria was not exactly something she cared to experiment with, already mindful of Chakotay's warnings of the harmful side effects of such habits. Perhaps, if she concentrated very hard, she might have some success despite having no akuna. Kathryn closed her eyes and sought for that tranquil place; for the white light that would give her access to her guide. 

She sat for an hour or could it have been longer, she mused, finally acknowledging the cramp gnawing at her legs. Time had seemed to stand still, but at last she had to admit defeat and with a sigh gave up. Opening her eyes, she found Manaya standing at the open door, a look of understanding and respect on his face.

"Manaya, I have my memories back." Grabbing for his hand she was disappointed to find that he did not carry the translator. She smiled brightly, pointing to her forehead. 

He smiled back in comprehension and gestured for her to follow him. The storm had left the forest smelling clean and vibrant. It brought back fresh memories of New Earth, the planet she had shared with Chakotay, and the time they had spent together believing it was to be their home for the rest of their lives. She remembered standing in the rain watching the rivulets of water pooling at her feet; remembered Chakotay's laughter at her bedraggled appearance and his playful reminder that she was 'a child of the 24th century, not a nature girl'. A smile lifted the corner of her mouth and an ache started somewhere deep in her heart. She missed him so much that it hurt. Missed all of them, she sternly corrected herself; ridiculously embarrassed by her impulsive admission. Yet, thinking about him caused a wash of loneliness to bite through her that was difficult to ignore. She already knew how he felt about her; maybe it was time she gave some serious thought to how she felt about him. Even though, in all likelihood, they would never see each other again.

***

"Report," Chakotay ordered from the head of the conference table.

"All scans of the planet are identical to our previous visit, Captain. Right across the scale, even down to the weather patterns," Harry Kim informed him. "There's obviously a highly sophisticated shield in operation down there."

"Okay, so we're no clearer on the situation than last time," Chakotay affirmed. "Tuvok, I want you to co-ordinate things from Voyager. Paris, you and B'Elanna assemble search teams. Neelix, I want you along too; your tracking skills will be invaluable. If previous experience is anything to go by the tricorders are likely to be of little use. We're going to have to rely on old-fashioned intuition and keen eyesight. We'll beam down to the landslide site and initiate Alpha search protocols. I want com-links open at all times. Tuvok, keep a lock on everyone. I don't want to be caught out by any surprises, and a repeat of last time is not an option. The first sign of trouble and I want an immediate beam-out." Chakotay rose to his feet. "Let's move, people. We've got a missing captain to find."

***

Kathryn glanced about her as Manaya led her toward the centre of the settlement and the long hut that was the spiritual home of the tribe. She had often seen women taking offerings of fruit and wine through its curtained portal, but she had never been allowed inside. Manaya had assured her that the time would come when the gods gave them the sign of her acceptance into the tribe, and she too would be able to enter what they regarded as the most sacred place of their people. Now it seemed that such a sign had come in the form of the previous night's thunderstorm. 

Thinking back over the weeks, Kathryn realised it had indeed been out of the ordinary. The weather here had followed the same unvarying pattern day after day; warm sun from early morning until almost sundown, the evening bringing enough gentle rain to keep the forest and crops fertile, and then clear crisp nights. The climate was so perfect that she wondered whether the ancestors had left them weather controls in addition to the translator unit. If this were so, how many other such gifts did they possess that she had not yet seen? 

Although Manaya and Maia seemed to trust her, there was much that was kept well out of her sight, she was sure. Like most male-orientated societies, a mere female did not count for much within the tribe. Or maybe they just did not know what technological wonders their visiting ancestors had bequeathed.

Manaya drew back the curtain and gestured for her to enter. The hut was dimly lit, just enough illumination for her to see the faces of the elders gathered around a cylindrical object positioned in the middle of the room. Around the walls hung colourful paintings depicting the moon in various phases; the skills of the hunt; great feasts and celebrations. It seemed a hodgepodge of history and daily life, yet each representation obviously had great meaning for them. Time and again the tattoo design appeared. One of the paintings seemed to show the translator in use; and as she looked closer, she could discern other strange artefacts that did not sit well with the basic rural nature of the tribe. Did they know for what purpose these things were intended?

Manaya hurried to the gathered elders at the sound of his name. A quick conversation in lowered tones and furtive glances in her direction made Kathryn grow uneasy, although their faces remained serene and the looks appeared merely curious. At one point she saw an eyebrow raised and a particularly interrogative look thrown her way. 

Manaya returned to her side carrying the translator and slipped his hand over hers before ushering her toward the waiting circle of men. "So you will understand the ceremony now to be performed," he advised her. "I will translate." He gestured respectfully to the oldest member of the group. "Kisin is leader of our people; healer and guide. He speaks to the Spirits for us and brings their wisdom." She nodded graciously, understanding the measure of respect that had to be shown. 

"You are a stranger among us," Kisin began without preamble. "The Spirits themselves told us to find you; to heal you. We would know more of your tribe and your beliefs before we agree to do what has been requested of us."

Kathryn, somewhat confused as to what was to happen to her, nevertheless tried to compose an answer that would not compromise the Prime Directive. "My tribe comes from far away," she began. "We are explorers searching for our way home."

"How did you become lost?"

She smiled wryly. How could she possibly explain to these people about the caretaker and temporal shifts? She gave a mental shrug and framed it as basically as possible. "We began our journey in search of others of our tribe who had gone astray. We in turn became lost ourselves and now travel toward home as best we can."

"Did you succeed in finding those who were lost?"

"Yes, we did. They rejoined the tribe and we are ... were ... travelling home together." Talking about Voyager's crew opened up an empty pit of worry and she found herself wondering where they were now. "May I ask how you found me? Were any of my tribe with me?"

Kisin held up a staying hand. "I will answer such questions later."

She hoped he would. She had tackled Manaya many times on the same subject, and he always replied that she must wait. It had been frustrating, but hopefully she would soon have the answers she so desperately needed.

"Who was leader of your tribe? Tell me about him."

She sat up straighter, unconsciously adopting a captain's authoritative air. "I was leader of my people."

A gasp of disbelief from one elder was all the reaction her statement received. "You led your people alone!" Kisin was obviously amazed.

"No, I too have my advisors," she admitted. "I take council from them; but like you yourself, the ultimate decision is always mine."

Kisin's gaze was steady as he pondered her words. "There was one whose council meant more to you than any other." It was a statement rather than a question, as though he had plucked the sudden impulsive vision of Chakotay from her mind. "Does he wear the same tribal clothing as you?" 

She noticed that Kisin's dress differed from his tribesmen only in the addition of the tattoo design over the left breast of his waistcoat. "He wears the same as I."

"He means much to you," the old man nodded sagely.

"I miss his council." She kept her voice as steady as she could.

"Now, ask what you will." Kisin had obviously found out what he wanted to know, despite the questions being few and obscure.

"How did you find me? What happened to my people?" She leaned forward eagerly and Manaya moved with her, his soft voice relaying her request.

"I do not know where your tribe is. When we heard the mountain speak, we knew it was a sign of great import." The elders around him nodded, listening as attentively as Kathryn herself. "That night we prayed to the Spirits to tell us what they required of us. We were told to search for one who was lost. It is forbidden to approach the mountain at night, but with the rising of the sun we travelled to where it had vent its wrath."

"But, how did you find me?" It was difficult to understand how Voyager with all its technology had failed to locate her, while these simple people had succeeded.

Kisin's gaze shuttered for a moment. "The Spirits guided us," was his only reply. There had to be more than what he was willing to tell, but right now she was more concerned about the crew members who had been caught in the landslide with her.

"Was there no sign of my people?"

"Much digging had been done," he acknowledged. "We found blood, but no bodies. Only you were delivered to us. Buried deep under the rocks, your body had been swept into a cleft and it saved you from the worst of the mountain's anger."

She knew that her crew would never have given up on her lightly; certainly not Chakotay or Tuvok. They must have believed her irretrievable. She dragged in a shuddering breath as the truth finally sank in. If by some miracle, she could find a way to transmit an SOS off this planet - her eyes had wandered more than once to the hi-tech equipment which served as an altar - she realised that Voyager must have resumed its course home and would be far beyond receiving range by now, even if they were to be monitoring for such a distress call. Her head sank slightly and she found herself fighting back unaccustomed tears. She was alone.

"The Spirits would have us open our hearts to you. My people gladly offer a home. Will you stay with us?"

She stiffened her back, holding her head erect. "Yes. Thank you." What choice did she really have?

"That is good," Kisin smiled. "You must be given a name."

"I have a name already. Kathryn."

Manaya stumbled over the pronunciation and Kisin shook his head. "This is a new life, so a new name must be given. We will call you Kataya." The gathered elders nodded in approval. 

"Does that have some significance?" she whispered to Manaya.

"It means 'one who comes home,'" he said gently. "You are now family."

Her attention was pulled back to Kisin as he spoke again, Manaya rapidly repeating his words. "Would it help you to grieve for your lost companions by communing with your spirit guide? Manaya told us you tried to commune, but were unable to reach the spirit lands."

"I am used to having an aid and all my possessions are with my people," she explained. "I couldn't expect you to provide me with an akuna." She did not want to have to smoke heaven knew what in order to placate these people, new family or no.

Kisin waved an imperious hand and a young acolyte brought forward a small metallic object. "An akuna!" she breathed. There was certainly more to these people than she had thought. She accepted it gratefully, expressing her thanks as best she could. 

"Manaya, take Kataya back to her hut; she still needs much rest. Then return here, we would speak with you further."

On the brief walk back, Kathryn asked Manaya if someone would help her learn his native language. He nodded, seemingly pleased. "I will ask Maia to teach you. She helps the young ones and has much patience."

Her lips twitched in amusement. Being considered a young one would be a novel experience for a starship captain. Ex-captain, she chided herself, and the loss of her friends hit her once again. She could only hope they were safe and that the journey home would not prove too eventful for them. She knew Chakotay would take the best care of them. He was strong and sensible. Giving herself a mental shake, she thanked Manaya for his care and entered the hut, the akuna clutched tightly in her hand.

***

As the search teams quartered and disappeared in their respective directions, Chakotay remained alone on the rocky slope. Crouching down, he picked up a handful of soil and frowned. A considerable amount of excavation had taken place since they had left nearly two months ago. Yet, who or what had done this, and whether 'they' had found Kathryn remained a mystery at present. He rose slowly to his feet letting the soil spill from his hand; relaxing and letting his senses drift outward, trying to get a feel for his surroundings. Immediately he knew he was not alone; intensely aware of watchful eyes analysing his every movement.

Scanning the area as surreptitiously as he could, he failed to locate any indication of his stalker's presence. Physical evidence warred briefly with keenly honed survival instincts before his native senses finally won out, screaming at him to run. Chakotay sprinted an erratic path across the remains of the landslide; yet for all his agility, he could not out run the tiny dart that buried itself deeply in the back of his neck. Not until his legs suddenly refused to work and gave way beneath him did he realise there was a problem. Darkness rushed up to greet him and he was unconscious before he hit the ground. His head struck the boulder he had been about to leap over; blood spattering its dusty yellow surface as the side of his face took the brunt of the fall. Gashes opened in forehead and cheek, blood oozing from his nose and split lip, soaking into the hot sandy earth.

Manaya's scout group ran swiftly to the still body. Lifting him up they quickly took him with them, pausing only long enough to clear away any sign of their passing.

"Captain? Captain are you all right?" B'Elanna's voice rose by degrees at her failure to get an answer. "Chakotay? Chakotay answer me."

"What's wrong, B'Elanna?" Paris called from the dry brush, his team just returning from a fruitless search.

"It's Chakotay. He's not answering."

"Maybe the signal's not getting through," Paris suggested. "The tricorders go screwy down here, what's to say the combadges aren't affected either?"

"It's working," she protested. "There was a noise. I'm not sure what," she replied to his puzzled glance. "I don't like it. Something's not right. Torres to Voyager."

"Yes, Lieutenant. Is there a problem?"

Tuvok's calm voice did little to alleviate B'Elanna's concern. "We've lost contact with the captain."

Tuvok glanced to Harry Kim's position. "Ensign, do you still have a lock on Captain Chakotay?"

"Yes, sir. I ... No, he's just disappeared off my screen!" Harry's confusion was veiled by a flurry of activity on his console as he tried to re-establish contact. "I'm getting nothing. He's gone, sir."

"Loss of contact has been confirmed, Lieutenant," Tuvok informed B'Elanna. "I suggest you return to his last known position."

"What would we do without him," Paris jibed sarcastically, heading after B'Elanna who was already racing back towards the landslide. A wide broadcast from Voyager quickly alerting the other teams to reassemble at the beam down point and assist in the search for Chakotay.

Manaya ground his heel into the golden emblem that had adorned his captive's chest. The noises it had been making stopped abruptly and he nodded in satisfaction. Motioning for his party to continue, they carried their burden onward toward the hills.

It was Neelix who spotted the bloodstains, calling Paris and B'Elanna over in some agitation. "Is it Chakotay's, do you think?" he asked worriedly.

"Impossible to tell without a working tricorder. Paris to Voyager." 

Tuvok answered instantly. "Go ahead, Mr. Paris."

"We've found fresh blood down here. Can you beam a sample to sickbay and get the doctor to check if it belongs to the captain? I'll use my combadge for you to lock on."

They watched as the blood and several inches of surrounding sand disappeared. Neelix continued his survey of the area in search of further evidence, the faint blood trail leading him toward the nearby mountain range. 

"You found something?" Paris asked, as Neelix leaned over to squint at the dry ground.

"The blood trail leads this way," Neelix informed him, pointing at the faint droplets, "but there are no other tracks to indicate Chakotay went this way. On this kind of terrain it is extremely difficult not to leave evidence of any kind."

"Unless you were deliberately trying to hide it," Paris pointed out. "I get the feeling that Chakotay didn't go this way under his own steam. Dead or unconscious ... either way he was carried out of here."

"Tuvok to Paris."

"Go ahead, Tuvok."

"The doctor has made a positive identification. The blood is indeed that of Captain Chakotay."

"We've found evidence leading to the conclusion that the captain was probably abducted. I believe the best course of action is for me to proceed with B'Elanna, Neelix, Brady, Chang and Dawson and have the other members of the away team return to the ship."

"I concur, Lieutenant. Proceed with caution."

"Okay, let's go," B'Elanna urged. "Neelix, you lead the way." 

They had been walking for less than two minutes when the Telaxian stopped. "The captain's combadge," he said quietly, looking down at the metallic remnants mashed into the soil. 

"The blood also peters out here," B'Elanna called to them from the edge of the tree line.

"So, which way?" Paris asked Neelix, who was staring perplexedly into the ever-deepening forest of foliage before them.

The bloody trail had led to a dissecting set of barely discernible paths; each leading into an arboreal twilight. Neelix made a quick pass of the foreground to each, shaking his head and muttering to himself. B'Elanna and Paris exchanged less then encouraged looks. 

"Neelix?" B'Elanna pressed. 

"Exceptional, really exceptional." He turned and shrugged. "There's simply nothing to go on. They could have taken any one ... or even split up and taken all three. I'm sorry, Lieutenant, it's just impossible to tell."

"Then we follow Tuvok's example and do the logical thing," Paris announced. "Three paths, three search teams. Neelix, you and Brady take the right. Chang, Dawson, take the left. That leaves the last one for B'Elanna and myself. We'll all regroup in the foothills on the other side. Keep your com-links open at all times and report in every twenty minutes. If you do find the captain and he's not alone, don't try to be heroes; report in and wait for the cavalry."

***

The akuna was warm under her hand as she drifted into meditation. Chakotay's first attempt at introducing her to the spirit world, the sense of anticipation as he had unwrapped his medicine bundle, and the realisation of the trust he was placing in her, came back in a rush, washing over her in a cool wave. That he had allowed someone so alien to his own beliefs to share in that most personal experience never failed to touch her on a deeply emotional level. She felt her throat tighten as she held back the threat of tears. She missed him so much. She knew she was being ridiculous. Never one for casual emotion, she had found herself becoming increasing maudlin over these last few weeks; finally accepting the reality of her abandonment here. 

She opened her eyes to find herself on the beach. It was just as she remembered it, the sky a beautiful cerulean blue, the sea clear and inviting. She walked to the water's edge, letting the lapping waves soak her uniform trousers. Birds called out to one another in a discordant, yet pleasing chorus. The peaceful scene did little to calm her inner turmoil though, and she scanned the area impatiently. There was no sign of her guide, so she headed up into the softly dipped dunes, settling back to recline in the warm sand. The sun quickly dried her clothes, the sound of the ocean lulling her gently into a pleasant doze.

When she at last opened her eyes again, the sun's warmth had been replaced with the silver kiss of moonlight. Beside her was the tiny lizard she had been hoping to see, it's bright little eyes regarding her with patient expectation. "I need your help," she started quickly. "I have to know what happened to my crew. Why did Voyager leave me behind?"

As usual the guide chose to ignore such a straightforward plea and Kathryn sighed as she remembered things here were governed very differently than in the real world. She needed to phrase questions correctly. "How do I get through this alone," she asked. "Kisin's people are good, but they are not my people. I need to know Voyager and its crew are safe. That Chakotay is safe."

The guide's reply was as enigmatic as ever, "Wait."

Kathryn watched as it scuttled down the dune and disappeared into the scrub at the bottom. She continued to survey the scene dully for several moments before returning to her own contemplation. Her once ordered mind was now completely unruly. She found herself thinking of Chakotay again, replaying memories in her mind like a bereaved relative watching home movies of a lost loved one. "Obsessed," she hissed at herself, "craving what you can't have." She started to her feet, shocked momentarily by a brief vision of him far down the beach: the forlorn set of his shoulders and unkempt visage told of utter despair. No! She buried her face in her hands, cursing herself for conjuring up an illusion of him that mirrored her own emotions. Was this to be the only way she could ever see him again? A figment of her imagination wandering her dreamscape. At times like this she fervently wished she had been crushed under that rockslide forever to remain blissfully ignorant of that which she had lost.

"Kataya! Kataya, come quickly." Manaya's grandson, Toa, grabbed Kathryn's hand and pulled her to her feet. "You come now."

Apologising to Maia for the interruption of their lesson, she hurried out after the youngster. The camp was crowded with curious villagers, many pointing toward the approaching scout party crossing the open stretch of grassland. Manaya was leading the way and behind him his men appeared to be carrying something. At first Kathryn thought it was the carcass of a deer or some other animal, but as they drew nearer it became plain that they carried a body. Closer still and the air caught in her chest as she registered the burgundy and black of a Starfleet uniform. Lifting the light skirts of her native garb, she ran forward as they entered the camp, Chakotay's body hanging limply between them. Kathryn's hand flew to her mouth in horror as she fell to her knees beside him. "Chakotay!" 

Her shocked gaze flew to Manaya's face. "What happened? Where did you find him?" 

Manaya had the grace to avoid her eyes and his unusual discomfiture made her suspicious. "Did you do this to him?" she demanded angrily, rising to stand challengingly before him.

"You wanted him. We brought him. He must not see the way," he told her matter-of-factly. "He tried to flee. One of my kin let his enthusiasm for the task outweigh his common sense." Manaya cast a critical look at the youngest member of the hunting party. "He should recover from the dart soon."

Kathryn gently lifted Chakotay's face. Dried blood streaked his strong features, covering his tattoo and blackening the burgundy of his uniform where it had soaked in. His skin looked far too pale, almost waxy, and she felt her stomach tighten in concern. With only the very basic of medicines available to her here, she prayed he were not more seriously hurt than Manaya appeared to believe. 

"Let's get him cleaned up," she advised, taking charge of the proceedings. "The least we can do for the moment is make him comfortable."

Manaya quickly ordered their captive to be transferred to Kathryn's hut. Maia helped her disrobe him, which was no easy task in his present condition; the two women having to manhandle his muscular weight the best they could. Leaving him just his shorts for modesty, they bathed his battered body, applying natural salves to his cuts and abrasions. The oily, white solution leaving tracks across his skin like war-paint, under which heavy bruising was already beginning to show. He felt worryingly hot to her touch and Kathryn turned to Manaya who was hovering at his customary post by the door. "How long will he be like this?"

He shook his head, a smooth hand gesture indicating he had not understood. Searching her slim local vocabulary, she pointed to Chakotay and tried again. "How long ill?"

"Before the setting of the sun," he replied reassuringly. "Kataya not worry."

Manaya's confident tone relieved her anxiety somewhat and she replaced the cold compress that covered Chakotay's brow with a fresh one. A quiet exhalation of breath alerted her to the fact that her native friend had not left and she turned to see him at her shoulder, a perplexed look on his face. He reached down to remove the compress, his fingers gently smoothing over the tattoo on Chakotay's damp temple, then lightly touching his own. "How?"

Kathryn shook her head slightly having no answer for him. How could she tell him about the Sky Spirits; about the history of Chakotay's people? Manaya had never been off this planet; his own people having no real understanding of the technology their ancestors had bequeathed them. Besides, even if she thought Manaya would be able to grasp all that she could tell him, the Prime Directive strictly forbade any such interference.

A groan from her recumbent patient drew both their attentions. Bleary eyes opened, only to close again quickly as Chakotay tried to turn his head from the sunlight coming through the window. Manaya acted swiftly, pulling the shades down and dimming the hut's interior. Kathryn smiled her thanks, then turned back to Chakotay as he opened his eyes once more, focusing this time. His gaze wandered about his unfamiliar surroundings and then with a sigh of amazed relief locked onto her face. "Kathryn?"

"Yes, I'm here, Chakotay." She grasped the hand that was feebly trying to disentangle itself from the thin blanket that covered him. "My new friends got a bit carried away, but you'll be fine. It's okay," she assured him as he struggled to sit up, pushing him back gently. "Lie still. I won't leave you." She dabbed the perspiration from his face with a cool cloth and felt his grip ease as he slipped into sleep.

He woke several hours later to bright sunshine. Cautiously sitting up, he was surprised to find that he did not hurt very much at all. His hand lifted to explore the tingling sensation on his face, fingertips encountering rough scabbing. 'Hell, I must look a mess,' he thought, glancing about in search of his uniform, which was no where in sight. A pile of native clothing lay neatly folded on one side, and dressing quickly, he went to find Kathryn. 

He found her a short distance away, deep in conversation with the alien he had noticed briefly during his first visit to consciousness. Kathryn was also dressed in native apparel, he noticed, and looking remarkably well; her long golden hair spilling loosely over her shoulders. She turned at his approach, smiling brightly. "Chakotay, how do you feel?"

"Like a throwback," he grimaced. "My father could never get me to wear this stuff when I was young; seems he's getting his revenge now." He looked down at his outfit; honey-coloured trousers and matching tunic made from the softest hide left his arms and chest open to the warm air, while equally soft, but durable moccasins protected his feet from the stony ground.

"I think it's rather fetching actually," she grinned at him.

"I'm sure you look a lot better than I do," he grunted dismissively.

Manaya had quietly taken his leave.

"Come on." She held her hand out to him. "Walk with me? Manaya is calling the council together tonight. Hopefully they will take us back to the beam down site, or at least somewhere the away team will be able to locate us. If not, we'll have to come up with a plan of our own."

"Have you reason to believe they won't help us return to the ship?" Chakotay asked, catching the faint edge of concern in her voice.

"I've scouted most of the valley," she continued lightly, "but I've still no idea how they brought us into this paradise. The walls seem to be sheer all around, which probably explains why the weather is so temperate all the time. There is the nightly rainfall, but it's always extremely brief and fairly light. Of course, there may be tunnels somewhere in the northern hills, but..."

"Kathryn, what's going on here?" 

She shook her head very slightly, guiding him away from the camp. Leading him into the forest, away from prying eyes and ears, and heading toward a small waterfall she had discovered not too far away, yet solitary enough for her to speak with him in private. 

The glade was cool and quiet. Nothing but the sound of the singing waterfall caressing the pool at its foot and the occasional songbird breaking the silence. Only when they were sitting beside each other on the grassy bank edging the clear water, did she continue. "I always had a guide with me on my excursions. At first I thought it was to protect me from the local wildlife, but then I realised my companions were solely there to keep an eye on my movements."

"What brought you to that conclusion?"

"Oh, little things really. It hadn't actually struck me until I decided to take a look at the foothills. Every time I tried heading northward, they would deliberately steer me off some other way. Very cleverly mind you and always politely."

"Not cleverly enough to fool Captain Kathryn Janeway, though?" he teased.

She could not bring herself to return his smile as the questions that had haunted her for so long came distinctly to mind. No matter how much she told herself that they no longer mattered now he was here; she still needed to know why he had originally abandoned the search for her.

"Tell me what happened, Chakotay. After the accident? Did you find Pierce and Soonan? I saw them get swamped just seconds before the landslide hit me."

He brought her up to date with a concise briefing, including the more personal details of his search into the spirit land; registering the wonder in her eyes as he told her of his encounter with her animal guide. "I have never heard of such a thing happening before," he said. "It's still a mystery to me now why it happened."

"I asked my guide to find you," she explained, looking away suddenly shy under the intensity of his gaze. Kicking off her moccasins, she dipped her toes into the cool water and tried to arrange her thoughts. She knew this chance might never present itself again; but she was still afraid. Once she told him of her feelings there would be no going back and things would change irrevocably between them forever.

"Chakotay, I ... I've had a lot of time to think things through since I got my memory back. I've spent a considerable amount of that time on defining my parameters when it comes to you."

He tensed, not quite sure where this was leading. "And?" he enquired cautiously.

Instead of answering, she raised a hand to his temple, lightly tracing the tattoo that was so much a part of him. "Manaya's tribe has an explanation ... a meaning to this mark. This part," her fingers feathered over the straight lines that rose to his hairline, "represents the freedom of the bird in flight. This," a delicate finger traced the semi-circle, "represents the moon: the symbol of fertility for these people ... and these are the land." Her hand trailed slowly down the side of his face, gently avoiding the scrapes and bruises. "Oh, Chakotay, I don't want to be responsible for holding you captive. I don't want to restrict your freedom to fly."

"I stay because I wish to, Kathryn," he said softly. "You know me better than to suppose I would stay for any other reason."

She nodded; inching closer to him until their thighs rested warmly against each other, her fingers gently brushing across his parted lips. His breathing instantly deepened, his eyes never leaving her face as he warned, "Don't do this, Kathryn. I don't think I could step back again." His fists trembled at his side, trying desperately not to give in to the desire flaring to life inside him.

"I've always known just what I wanted in life, Chakotay. Knew where I was going and exactly how I was going to get there. Now I know what I want for us." She leaned invitingly toward him, her voice lowering to a mere whisper, "Kiss me."

He hesitated for the briefest beat; not quite believing that everything he had longed for from this woman was finally about to be given. His arms drew her roughly against him, holding her a little too tightly as though he were afraid she would unexpectedly pull back from him. "Kathryn," his voice was hoarse with emotion, "are you absolutely sure this is what you want?"

"Consider it an order, Commander," she growled playfully, her eyes dancing.

Chakotay's gaze ran hotly over her face, then lifting her onto his lap, his lips closed eagerly over hers. It began as a gentle fusing that gradually deepened as she opened to him, her fingers sliding into the soft sheen of his hair, bringing him closer still. With one arm latched round her waist, his other hand smoothed over her stomach and ribcage, gripping the intruding material of her blouse. Tugging the thin cloth from the waistband of her skirt, his fingers encountered soft, warm skin as they travelled upward, tracing the curve of her breast. She moaned softly, her tongue fencing lightly with his, her hands moving to cradle his face before she drew back to look into his smouldering eyes. 

"Make love to me, Chakotay," she murmured, her legs wrapping round his waist as he stood up, taking her with him.

Gently he laid her back against the grassy bank, discarding his tunic before leaning over to kiss her once more. Her hands roamed eagerly over his muscular shoulders and chest, her fingers pushing under the waistband of his trousers to caress his firm behind.

Chakotay deftly untied the thin strands that fastened her blouse together, his lips and tongue tasting the slightly salty flesh of her breasts and abdomen. She moved restlessly beneath him, her hips rising upward to press against him, and gasping in anticipation at his obvious arousal.

"Yes, Kathryn," he groaned, taking hold of the hem of her skirts and bunching them up around her waist as her own fingers fumbled with the hide ties at his hips.

Manaya watched from the shelter of the trees as Kataya moved intimately beneath the one called Chakotay. Just the thought of that name was enough to set his blood pounding; but to see her in his arms and so obviously enjoying the encounter made his teeth grind in frustration. His fists balled at his sides. How he longed to drive his hunting knife deep into Chakotay's heart ... and now, as he watched her, Kataya's as well. The elders had promised she would be his!

Chakotay's head snapped up and he quickly rolled away from her, all senses alerting his body to the knowledge that they were not alone. 

"What is it?" she whispered, sitting up and pulling her blouse together.

"I heard something... In the woods. Are there any animals living here we should be concerned about? Anything that we might have to defend ourselves against?" 

"Not here, no." She stared into the thick undergrowth, still and alert beside him. Nothing moved, not even the whisper of a breeze to disturb the leaves.

"We should return to the camp," he advised, slipping his tunic over his shoulders. "We're far too exposed here."

She nodded in agreement, taking his hand and leading the way back to the narrow trail. The forest seemed unnaturally quiet now, as if it too was waiting for something to happen. Chakotay moved a step ahead of his companion, but maintained a comforting hold on her cool hand. 

For a split second it seemed as though the foliage itself had turned against them, a whirl of green leafy motion presenting a furious Manaya in their path. Jealousy twisted his features into a mask of hateful rage and Chakotay had no doubts about what use he intended to put the hunting knife in his clenched hand. Instinctively he thrust Kathryn to one side and she darted clear not wanting to cramp his movements. She had never seen him in hand-to-hand combat before, but from the way his body intuitively assumed a defensive stance she knew he was no stranger to it.

The two men circled each other warily; Manaya's rage cooling enough to make him realise that this would be no easy kill. He tested the air with small feints of his blade, eyes narrowing, fury banking again as his opponent smiled back coolly. Chakotay's gaze was hard as agate, comfortably confident that Manaya's ill-contained anger would be a major advantage. It had been a long time since he had fought in close-quarters like this, but his time with the Maquis had been a harsh instructor, quickly adding to his existing martial skills. The only difference between Maquis and Starfleet combat was the nurtured desire to crush. Luckily for Manaya, he was now much more strongly influenced by his captain's way of doing things and he knew she would prefer this antagonist disarmed rather than killed.

Manaya's blade swished through the air a breath from Chakotay's face, but instead of jumping backwards as expected, his opponent sidestepped and lunged forward, grabbing his wrist and pulling the knife down savagely. A grunt of pain was all he was allowed before Chakotay's knee came up to smash into his face. Blood spattered every which way from a badly broken nose, but still he maintained his grip. The ferocity of their tussle sent both men crashing to the ground, wrestling furiously. Manaya's hand managed to snake round Chakotay's defence to close on his throat in an attempt to choke the life from him, but he answered immediately with a counter lock and they continued to roll in the dirt, evenly matched. The scuffle was furious, but finally Chakotay managed to manoeuvre his opponent beneath him, breaking the chokehold. Bringing his elbow down in a vicious strike just below the clavicle, he attempted to numb the nerves in Manaya's limb sufficiently enough to disarm him. The move didn't come off as successfully as Chakotay had expected and as he rolled round to face him, Manaya brought the knife up and across in a devastating slice. 

"No!" Kathryn's face turned white as she saw her first officer fall backwards, a ragged slash splicing the hide material of his tunic with a spurt of livid red. Manaya was now making toward him in a blind charge, knife poised high for the killing strike, and without thinking she dropped to a defensive crouch, carouselling her leg in a sweeping motion that sent him sprawling in the dirt. Quickly taking the few seconds advantage, Chakotay lunged forward ramming a stiffened hand directly into an unguarded solar plexus as the man started to his knees. He crumpled back to the ground gasping like a beached fish, the knife slipping from limp fingers as Chakotay followed through with a stunning blow to the side of his head. Manaya collapsed unconscious.

"Chakotay." Kathryn was by his side in a moment, scanning his face for the inevitable damage. As suspected, the wounds had reopened and she smothered a horrified gasp as her gaze reached the injury inflicted by the knife. The incision ran from his waist to just below his left armpit, and despite the alarming amount of blood and the pallor of his skin, she hoped it was not as bad as it looked. There was still a fire in his eyes; a cold, deadly fire that made her shy slightly as he put up a hand to ward off her ministrations. Closing his eyes, he took a few deep breaths as if trying to calm and centre himself once more. When he opened his eyes again the quiet confidence was back, the fire in his blood firmly under control. A frisson of something almost sexual flooded her body and she couldn't resist the temptation to brush the dirt from his face; tracing the red marks Manaya's fingers had left on his throat. The tactile contact intensified the feeling and she instinctually leaned closer to him placing a gentle kiss on his lips. Chakotay winced as his answering movement sent a stab of pain, smiling wryly as she jumped away from him.

Manaya groaned as consciousness began to return and Chakotay started awkwardly to his feet. "I think this is going to have to be a team effort," he said, taking hold of Manaya's arm. Kathryn nodded, quickly supporting the other side and grunting as they tugged him upright. With Manaya between them, they started the journey back to the camp. The sun had slunk low behind the mountains and evening was rapidly approaching. Before they had travelled half the distance, thunderclouds closed in and the rains began, quickly leaving the ground slippery and difficult to negotiate. She could feel every muscle in her body protesting at the strain and could only guess what physical toll the exertion was taking on Chakotay. His face was grim with the effort; his earlier scant energy already seriously depleted during Manaya's irrational attack. Blood ran freely from the wound across his chest and trickled from cuts on his face. 

Voices from the rain shadowed darkness carried faintly toward them and Kathryn motioned to Chakotay to wait, knowing it was probably a scouting party sent in search of them. Exhausted, they sank to the muddy ground, Kathryn supporting Manaya's head in her lap. Within moments the men had found them, appearing out of the misty rain like water wraiths. There was no need for words; their suspicious, angry looks drifted from Manaya's battered, motionless form to Chakotay's knife wound, before reverberating back to pass between them furnishing all the details with which they chose to concern themselves. Two of the four stepped forward to take Manaya's body, the other two hauling Chakotay to his feet. Kathryn bit back her protest at their unnecessary roughness, knowing it would not serve to maintain the meagre influence she had over these men to interfere; nor would he thank her for it. In the distance she could see welcoming pinpoints of firelight and sighed softly in relief at the closeness of the camp. 

The area was eerily deserted as they drew near to the hut that had been her home over the last few weeks, and she was comforted by the fire's warmth that seemed to beckon her in. A movement in the doorway caught her eye and she smiled as Maia stepped forward to help her. Kathryn's smile froze as she noted the anxiety touching the woman's face and turned to see Chakotay being led away in the wake of a still semiconscious Manaya. Maia quickly laid a gently restraining hand on her arm as she started forward; but it was Chakotay's slight negative shake of the head that halted her. In all probability they were taking him to the tribal elders. From the little contact she had experienced in her brief dialogue with him, Kisin seemed to be a fair leader, and she trusted Chakotay would be able to talk himself clear of any potential confrontation. That did not mean she was not going to worry, though. She smiled nervously to herself; it seemed that along with her uniform, her equilibrium had also deserted her.

Sitting her before the fire and wrapping a sleeping fur about her shoulders, Maia hurriedly brought her a bowl of steaming, deliciously aromatic soup; before settling down beside her and trying earnestly with her limited vocabulary to ascertain exactly what had happened to Manaya and Chakotay. Kathryn got the distinct impression that there was a great deal more to her questioning than simple curiosity; but it took quite some time and a fair bit of hand-signing, before she eventually translated enough of Maia's information to confirm both Chakotay and Manaya had been taken directly to Kisin. Both were in need of the medicine man's healing expertise; yet Kathryn had the feeling that it was not merely for their physical well-being that they had been escorted to his presence.

She started a little as Maia took the empty bowl from her lax fingers and realised that she had almost fallen asleep. She really wanted to stay awake until Chakotay returned, but the strain of the day and the drain on her emotions proved too strong for sheer will power. Her sleep was restless with vivid dreams plaguing her uneasy mind, leaving her with half-remembered fictions. Persistent pain in her neck and shoulders finally brought her back to full awareness. The embers from the now low fire glowed softly in the centre of the hut, tiny flames licking the sweet smelling wood at its heart. She could see Chakotay sitting cross-legged on the opposite side of the circular hearth. He was perfectly still, body relaxed; yet seemed curiously alert at the same time, as though he were ready to burst into action at the slightest provocation. His eyes were closed and as she watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest, she knew he was deep in meditation. Flame glow reflected animatedly over and around him in some primitive tribal dance; the scars on his face and torso standing out in bas-relief. 

With the sleeping fur draped casually across his shoulders and the tattoo stark against his forehead, he could have belonged to this tribe; only the short hair and beginnings of a beard setting him apart. Her eyes were drawn back to the fire and for a short while she lost herself in its comforting depths, a hand gingerly rubbing sore neck muscles as her mind wandered aimlessly. Tiredness seeped through her again taking her thoughts back to the first time she had shared a kiss with Chakotay. 

It had contained nothing like the passion that had flared between them today. He had been telling her a story of an angry warrior; which she recognised to be himself and realised he was baring his love for her in his own way. She had been entranced, her fingers instinctively twining with his in understanding. She had not noticed the tears that had tracked down her cheek until his free hand had brushed them away. A gesture so tender, it had made her want to cry all over again. He had closed the gap between them, kissing her tenderly with gentle lips. If Voyager had left her subsequent rescue for one more day, Kathryn was certain that moment by the falls today would surely have come much earlier.

As it was, her duties as a Starfleet captain had firmly curtailed any liaison that might have occurred following their return to the ship. They had continued to spar constantly within the defining parameters of ship's protocol: swinging from playfulness to outright disagreement; but always well away from the all-seeing eyes of the crew. What would happen to that delicate balance if they allowed their relationship to take that final turn?

When she finally tore herself away from her own musings, she found Chakotay's dark gaze resting on her. His face was almost expressionless and there seemed to be a huge gulf looming between them. She shivered slightly, despite the warmth still generated by the faintly glowing embers. What had happened to the connection they had made earlier? She straightened up, giving an involuntary moan as her back muscles protested. 

His features softened and he moved to her side, hesitating briefly before kneeling behind her. His strong fingers laid claim to her shoulders, gently kneading the tender area around her stiff neck. He gently cut short her protest with a whispered, "Later, Kathryn," and she gave herself over to his sensually relaxing touch. The tension and pain seemed to seep out of her under his sure pressure and she surrendered to him totally. When she was fully at ease, pain gone, he gently tugged her backwards to lean against him, holding her close. Her eyes drifted shut and she let her worries sink to the back of her mind. The morning would be soon enough for questions. She could feel herself starting to float and soon fell asleep to the gentle, reassuring sound of his breathing.

"Dammit!" B'Elanna's voice rocketed round the trees, and Paris ducked quickly as the rock hurtled past his head, missing him by inches. His instinct for self-preservation was always at the front of his mind when he was around B'Elanna Torres.

"Hey, take it easy! There's no need to take it out on me." His placatory tone did nothing to calm the furious Klingon, and the scowl she sent in his direction should have warned him that now was not the time for rational conversation. Still, he had been fighting with her for far too long now to give up on the habit.

"Look, B'Elanna, we can hardly see each other, let alone the trail. What if we miss something? It was only sheer chance we spotted that footprint back there. Let's get some rest and come back at first light. We'll bring Neelix along; he's good at this tracking stuff." He turned an open face to her, watching in some amusement as her scowl deepened. "Then again, I'd much rather have a tricorder myself."

Her fist smacked hard against the side of a tree, and Paris had the distinct impression that it would have been him if he'd been any closer. She needed to hit something to partly release the frustration that had been building up throughout the day. The onset of evening had brought to a halt any effective search they could have made and she silently seethed at the weak feeling of helplessness it left her with.

"You're really worried about the big guy, aren't you." Paris's voice was cool in the gloom.

"Chakotay can look after himself," she shot back. Saying it didn't help ease this intuitive feeling that something desperate had happened to him. He was family. She should be able to do something! More than once he had pulled her out of life threatening situations - she owed him.

"Yeah, right. That's why we're running around in the dark, treading in who knows what," Paris grumbled.

She wrapped her arms round her taut body as if chilled. Paris, recognising the defensive gesture, let go the need to taunt her. He was worried too, only he was damned if he would let her see any evidence of it. He tapped his combadge, "Paris to Voyager. Two to beam up."

As they shimmered into nothingness, two natives slowly stood up from their vantage point further up the trail, unsure of what they had seen. With no more sound than the whisper of a breeze, they turned and headed quickly up into the trees, knowing they had to be back at the camp before darkness shrouded the mountain.

The first rays of sunlight were just beginning to filter through into the cabin when she woke. Chakotay was still sleeping at her side, one arm flung protectively across her. His face was unnaturally flushed and the wound on his chest had opened again during the night. She could feel the sticky wetness from it on the back of her shift, realising with concern that it was seriously infected. Placing a cool palm to his brow, she frowned at the damp hotness. Her touch woke him, and his eyes danced in momentary confusion before focusing.

"Kathryn?"

"Lay quiet, Chakotay. I'll get some help for you. That wound needs dressing."

He surprised her by quickly sitting up, apparently alert and not showing any sign of the pain she was certain he had to be experiencing. "I don't think they'll let you out. I had an escort back here last night and I believe they stayed outside."

"Why?" Her voice betrayed the unease she felt. She had always been free to move around the compound with no restraint; apart from the 'guides' who accompanied her whenever she went exploring the surrounding hillsides.

"Our friend from yesterday has taken a distinct dislike to me. It seems he considers me dangerous."

Janeway had to agree. Chakotay was dangerous. That calm shell of his was extremely deceptive and she was often reminded of the saying concerning still waters whenever she fell to studying him. He was a man capable of killing without compunction should his life, or those of his companions, depend on it. Too many years of living on the edge had kept him wary and alert to the darker sides of those around him; and very few people had ever glimpsed the softer side of his personality. 

"What happened last night when they took you away?" she demanded. "Why didn't they treat your wounds!"

"They would have, but I couldn't allow it." His eyes were steady on hers, almost challenging. "Manaya refused; so I had to also."

Her lips thinned in disapproval. "Why," she insisted, her tone that of his captain rather than a mere companion.

"There is to be a..." He hesitated. "A trial. A contest of some sort between us today. The outcome of which will decided whether we can go or have to remain here. It seems that an away team got rather too close for comfort yesterday, just before nightfall. Scouts warned of their approach and reported on the 'magical' way they vanished into the night."

"They saw the away team transport?" She huffed in annoyance, realising there was nothing to be done about it now.

"Kisin interpreted it as a sign from the Spirits. He believes it may indicate that our 'tribe' is a threat to his own and so there is to be a testing by the Spirits." He watched her face turn stony as he continued. "Manaya will stand for his tribe and myself for ours."

"What sort of test? You're in no condition to fight, and even if you were I wouldn't allow it."

"Kathryn, there's nothing you can do to stop this. Besides, I have a feeling that it's not a physical test." There was obviously something else on his mind and she frowned, waiting for the rest of the bad news. "A judging by the Spirits doesn't appear to be the only thing in question here," he continued uneasily, picking his words carefully. "From what I was told last night, Manaya had expected you to be his mate following your acceptance into the tribe."

"His what!?"

This came as a complete shock. She would never have dreamed the depth of Manaya's regard for her to have actually taken this direction. He had always been very interested in her, but she had accepted his attention as pure curiosity. She sighed heavily. Still, she had never been very astute when it came to these matters, and it had taken long enough for her to recognise the signs in Chakotay; and even then he had had to spell it out to her! Mutual respect and admiration were one thing; but being regarded as some kind of possession was entirely another and highly distasteful. 

"I had to explain what we were doing up in the hills," Chakotay continued, suddenly dropping his gaze as she fixed him with a hard stare. "Manaya told the council that I had attacked you and he had come to your defence. When I was asked for an explanation, I told them we were..." He sought unsuccessfully for a term that would not offend and trailed off into silence.

"Oh, Chakotay," she said in exasperation. Sinking down into the furs, she rested her forehead in her hand, then rubbed her eyes before looking at him. "Well, I suppose it's true enough." She reached a hand across to him and he took it gently, turning it over with a wry grin and kissing the palm.

Maia walked in on them at that moment and Kathryn pulled away quickly. The native woman smiled knowingly, recognising the gesture for one that was used among her people. It was accepted to be the greatest sign of love and respect. She gazed briefly at Chakotay and a flutter of admiration ran through her. He was brave and handsome: a true warrior who wore his scars well. She put down the tray of food she had brought, along with a pot of salve and moved across the room to fetch a pot of water to clean Chakotay's wounds. He looked at her in some surprise and she felt obliged to explain that it was Kisin's command that he faced the test in good health. Besides, Maia thought, it went against Kisin's beliefs to let anyone suffer needlessly if he could aid them in any way. His decree had applied to Manaya as well, and his word was law.

Kathryn drew the pots closer with a smile of thanks. "When is this test to take place, Maia?" The woman frowned and Kathryn tried again, this time signing and getting her meaning across.

"When the sun reaches the tree tops." A combination of gestures and words furnishing the general idea. Maia left quietly and Kathryn saw that Chakotay had been right; two of the older scouts still stood sentry outside the door.

"You can eat when I get this wound cleaned up," she told him. "The sun's at its highest point when it reaches the trees. This trial is definitely not going to be a picnic."

She descended on him purposefully with cloth and water, his protestation that he could do it well enough himself quelled by the look she gave him. "I can make it an order, Commander." Her eyebrow rose interrogatively, the cold glance thawing somewhat at his obvious unease. "Chakotay, there's only you and I here. Don't fight me on this."

He sighed and lay back, allowing her access to the slash across his chest. She was as gentle as possible, but ultra aware of each involuntary flinch, his eyes closed to hide the pain. After she had smeared the salve over the angrily inflamed wound, she looked around for something to bind it with. She did not want any further infection getting in there; but there didn't seem to be anything to hand. She looked down at her sleeping shift; its light material would do well enough, she thought. Quickly stripping it off, she dressed in her native garb and turned to find his eyes upon her. She felt a blush creeping up her neck and forcefully shrugged it off as she tore the shift into strips.

"Well, that's the best I can do," she announced after a moment, sitting back to admire her handiwork. "The sooner we get back to Voyager and let the doctor get a look at you, the better I'll like it."

"Thank you." Something in his quiet tone made her look up quickly. His face was flushed again, his forehead hot against her hand as she touched him. She still had some of the potion Manaya had given her to help with her own fever. He had left it to use whenever the pain in her neck began to trouble her too much, and she had not used it for ages. Mixing up a small dose of the potent medicine, she offered it to him. "Here, this should help bring down your fever."

An unsteady hand took the cup from her, downing it in one gulp before lying back in the furs. She was right about it being effective. In a short space of time he could feel the tension and heat beginning to slip gently away, his eyes focusing much more easily on his surroundings. Taking a deep breath, he tested the pain in his chest, finding it acceptable. He could live with the discomfort, knowing he had to keep a clear head for the coming test. He would need to meditate to centre on his inner strength. "Kathryn?" he asked quietly. "Would you mind giving me some time here?"

"What's wrong?" Her voice was full of concern.

"Nothing. I just need some time alone. To prepare."

She wanted to object, but did not. She trusted his instincts. After all, this was his heritage in a way. She nodded and left the hut, ignoring the scout who immediately fell in step behind her. She did not go far, needing only to freshen up and take care of necessities. When the scout realised where she was heading, he turned his back to give her some privacy.

The shade from the surrounding trees had managed to keep the temperature in the camp to a pleasant level; yet it was still very hot when they came for Chakotay. He stood tall among them, almost a half head taller than Manaya himself, who was the tallest of his people. The white strips of her shift stood out starkly against Chakotay's tanned skin, and the cuts and abrasions on his face looked angry under the sun's glare. 

Kathryn followed barely two steps behind the party as they headed to the clearing in front of the Hogan. All the tribe had gathered for this serious and rare occasion, even the youngest of the children seemed quietly sombre. From what she could see, it appeared that not one of the tribe was missing, and she wondered absently whether anyone was standing sentry in the valley. No doubt her people from Voyager would be searching again by now, and she knew Tuvok would quickly take advantage of such a slip in the primitive security.

Her attention was quickly drawn back to the Hogan as a murmur rippled through the assembly. Chakotay now sat on the hard earth opposite Manaya. She wasn't sure who looked worse. Bruises stood out lividly on Manaya's face and upper body, his nose badly swollen where it had been broken in the fight. His wrist was tightly bound up and she wondered whether Chakotay's wrenching move to disarm him had simply fractured the bone or broken it.

Kisin's arrival brought all hushed talk and speculation to an abrupt halt. In his hands shone a clear crystal globe, faceted like an exquisitely cut diamond; its surface sparkling every imaginable colour with blinding intensity. Deep within its heart she could make out a strong throbbing light that seemed synchronous with her own pulse beat. It was impossible to take her eyes away from it. Kisin himself seemed to be the only one in the clearing unaffected by its influence. He set it down reverently between the two men, and then turned to address his gathered people. As hard as she tried, Kathryn could not understand any of it and knew that Chakotay would be equally as ignorant of the proceedings. The speech made a deep impression on those around her, and a murmur of approval rippled throughout the clearing. 

Maia sidled up beside her, the translator cradled in her palm. With a grateful smile Kathryn slipped her hand over it to initiate the link, asking, "What's going on, Maia?"

The woman's face was serious as she explained; "Each man will be tested by the Spirits. The truth in their souls will be laid bare and the Spirits will judge them by what is revealed. Then it will be decided."

"What? What will be decided? How?"

Maia turned her attention to the two men knelt in front of the Hogan. "Watch, Kataya."

Kisin placed the right palm of each man on the globe then stepped back and prepared to patiently observe. 

Chakotay felt a warm tingle seep into his hand, travelling up his arm and spreading through him like an electric current. The sensation was not unpleasant at first, but gradually the tingling increased, flowing faster and faster until his body felt like it was aflame. He did not hear his cry as the fierce energy roared through him. He was blind, deaf, insensate to the reality around him. Moments of his past, like scattered pieces of a jigsaw, began to re-enact before his sightless eyes; a mind image of shocking intensity. Memories and feelings that he had resolutely locked away were shaken loose and ruthlessly inspected. His childhood zoomed by in a split second; petty fights and acrimonious words tossed aside. His mother weaving in her room, making cloth for his father's cloaks; the Academy, friendships forged, lessons learned, a rich experience furnishing the ideals that had meant so much to him - ideals that were to be the cause of his ultimate defection. 

Tears sprang up in him as he was forced to watch once more the execution of Bajoran children by a contingent of Cardassians; his role as Starfleet observer forbidding him to interfere. Anger raged through him, a deadly hatred seeping into his numbed body. Chained to a wall in a Cardassian prison, a battered B'Elanna Torres directly across from him, he waited for the soldiers, preparing himself for death. He flinched from the flash of explosives that blew out the wall to his right, Chama and Hunt blasting through to rescue them against all Maquis rules. They had killed a lot of Cardassians that day; and each one died again under his eager hand in all its gory intensity. 

The Spirits had no mercy on him; jumping from one agonising scene to the next, until finally they landed on that fateful shuttle crash that had left Kathryn dying in his arms. Agony washed through him as he relived those moments over and over again, watching her die again and again and again. They lingered long over this episode of his life. Then he was kissing her hand, a replay of that morning, bestowing a gesture of respect that he had accorded no woman before her, other than his mother. Kathryn's acceptance of it sent a wave of soothing calm through him and for a brief moment it was almost as if he could see into her soul.

With a strangled gasp he fell forward, his hands automatically thrown out, stopping him short of smashing into the globe. His cheek rested against the hot, hard earth and as he lay panting, he could see Manaya lying unconscious opposite him. Kathryn rushed to his side, insistent hands pulling him upright. Her voice was stridently accusatory, "Is this over now!"

Kisin came to kneel beside her, slipping his fingers over the translator in her hand. "Your man is strong. Never have I seen the test take so long and the person still survive!"

"You mean he could have died!!" She was outraged, her hand closing convulsively on Chakotay's arm. He was obviously not fully aware of his surroundings as yet, but from Kisin's lack of concern, she took it to be an expected after-effect of the trial.

"If death had come, it would have been the will of the Spirits." The old man's unshakeable belief had a sobering effect on her and she struggled to control her anger.

"May we leave now," she asked quietly. "My own people will be looking for us."

"They have been seen, but will not be allowed to enter this place." He raised a hand against her protest. "You will be lead safely out of the valley, Kataya. I trust that you will never return to this place."

Kathryn accepted his statement as the command he intended. "I promise you, Kisin, we will respect your wishes. If I may ask one more thing ... Can you help Chakotay?"

"I'm okay," Chakotay protested, his voice weak and raspy. The pain of memory still burned in his eyes, emotional wounds that had taken years to heal now lying wide open once more. "I'm okay," he repeated, more firmly this time as she frowned at him.

Kisin helped him to his feet, the old man's respect for the first officer clearly visible to the entire tribe. 

It was a sorry sight that met the away team that afternoon. Neelix had led the way through the trees, time and again getting side-tracked by seemingly endless pathways. Torres' temper had started to flare, irritated by Paris's constant banter. She knew it was his way of coping with the situation, but it was driving her insane! 

"Quiet!" B'Elanna hissed, jabbing a finger to their right.

Paris and Neelix instantly froze, listening to the noises Torres' keen hearing had intercepted. The sound of slow, measured footsteps came clearly on the air, the heavy rustling of foliage being carelessly pushed aside. Whomever was coming toward them were taking no care to keep themselves unnoticed.

"Captain!" Neelix shout of joyful disbelief took them all by surprise.

Paris and B'Elanna dashed forward to take Chakotay's weight from their exhausted looking captain. The first officer himself looked awful. His pallid face was a mass of half-healed cuts and bruises, deeply shadowed by several days' growth of beard. Impromptu bandaging also attested to some kind of trauma to the chest and they lowered him gently to the ground. 

"Nice outfit, Commander," Paris smiled, crouching down in front of him. "New uniform for the Bridge crew?" A half-hearted grunt was his only response.

The captain sank down next to them, looking less than her usual epitome of good health and obviously in some pain herself. Reaching forward she commandeered B'Elanna's combadge. "Janeway to Tuvok."

The Vulcan's calm tones were music to her ears, and if she hadn't known better, she would have sworn there was a measure of surprise in his reply. "It is good to hear your voice again, Captain. Is Commander Chakotay with you?"

"Indeed he is, Tuvok. It's nice to hear your voice, too. Please beam Commander Chakotay directly to sickbay. He's in need of medical attention." 

She had been rubbing the back of her neck throughout the brief conversation, obviously in some considerable discomfort, and Paris could not avoid commenting on it. "What about you, Captain? I'm sure the doctor will want to give you the once over, too."

Her dismissal of the suggestion died on her lips when she caught Chakotay's steady gaze. She could hardly expect him to pay an unwanted visit to sickbay if she wasn't willing to do the same. "Very well, Mr. Paris. Tuvok, you'd better make that two to beam to sickbay. While I'm there, please arrange for a meeting of the senior staff in, say, one hour."

"Certainly, Captain. Prepare for immediate transport."

Kisin watched from his concealment as the away team shimmered out of existence. He had wanted to see this phenomenon for himself, not entirely trusting the fantastical reports of his scouts. His awe held him still for a long time, trying to decipher what he had just witnessed. Finally, he concluded that these people must have been sent by the Spirits themselves. The tattoo on the one called Chakotay attested to that. He was a test of their faith. With a sigh, he turned in the direction of the camp, wondering if the Spirits were pleased.

The doctor worked quickly on Chakotay, a running commentary flowing from him as he filled the commander with a varied gamut of hypospray concoctions against fever and infection. Sealing up the wounds on his chest and face with a skilfully applied regenerator until there was not even a faint scar remaining. "Really, I don't know why you go on these away missions. Not one of you can leave the ship for five minutes without coming back torn or battered. I find that you are all extremely careless with your bodies. What would happen if I were not here, hum? What then?" 

The captain stopped the flow quickly, seeing Chakotay was starting to come to the boil. "Doctor, can I have something for this almighty headache?"

He harumphed a bit more before deserting Chakotay. "Please sit up on the couch, Captain." Running his tricorder over her his eyebrows shot up in surprise. "My, my. Well, well. I've never seen that before."

"Doctor?" Kathryn's own temper skittered slightly, not helped by the fact that Chakotay's mouth had quirked into a grin. 

"Well, it's no wonder you have a headache, Captain. You have several fractures in your vertebrae, along with severe damage to the muscles in your neck and shoulders. This should help." He pressed a hypo to her neck, the drugs instantly getting to the root of the pain. "I must say though, I have no idea how you survived such severe internal injuries. They are quite adequately healed," he added quickly, "but still register on my instruments. Quite fascinating. I would suggest further rest and relaxation, though. The shots will help with the pain and I have sealed the fractures, but the muscles will take a little more time to recover fully. Maybe a good therapeutic massage every day will expedite things." 

His bright announcement was received in some embarrassment, which escaped him. Yet Janeway studiously avoided Chakotay's eye as she slid off the table. "Thank you, Doctor. Are the Commander and myself fully fit for duty now?"

"Yes. But please, no more away missions for a while."

She smiled and with a gesture for Chakotay to follow her, they exited into the corridor. 

"I thought he'd never finish," she said lightly as they strode down the hall. 

He nodded his agreement, smiling. "He's right, though. You should get some rest. Maybe a long hot soak in the bath?"

"Oh, how I'd love to," she mused. "That will have to wait, though. We've got ... " she checked the time, "fifteen minutes before the meeting. You know how the captain feels about time keeping."

With the donning of her Starfleet uniform, she had felt the mantle of command slip easily over her once more. Things seemed clear and more precise. She loved this ship, this crew, the journey of exploration they were on; she even enjoyed dealing with the day to day minutiae that filled up the life of a captain. 

She sighed contentedly, sinking back into the familiar chair at the head of the conference table. Picking up a report, she waited for her senior staff to assemble, greeting each in turn with a smile. She took in their faces as they sat giving her their updates. Tuvok, his calm steady presence had been part of her life for so long. Torres, the woman's fiery personality had become almost an essential part to the running of this ship. Paris, still cocky in his outward persona, but she knew he was much changed from the young man they had brought on board to help locate the Maquis. Kim, young and enthusiastic, such a bright young man. And Chakotay ... She couldn't imagine how she had ever got by without him - taking needed strength from him every day.

She dismissed the group finally and watched as they filed out, a slight gesture keeping Chakotay in his chair. She studied his face, her eyes gliding over the tattoo, over his full lips and then up to his deep brown eyes. 

"Kathryn?"

Aware that she must have been staring, she pulled back for a moment to gather her thoughts. She smiled warmly at him, eliciting a smile in return. I don't see you smile nearly often enough, she thought briefly. Good humour suffused his eyes as he waited for her to speak. "I don't think I have actually said thank you, Chakotay. I don't think there are words to express just how grateful I am for what you did for me. I..." her voiced trailed off.

"You did Kathryn, just by being alive."

She shook her head in denial. 

"I brought you back to all this," he gestured to the pile of reports stacked at her elbow, "and you still want to thank me?" Chakotay's eyes were suddenly alight with mischief, and perhaps something deeper. "The doctor ordered some rest and relaxation. So how about having dinner with me tonight? I hear Neelix is cooking something quite spectacular in your honour." He saw her apprehension at the mention of Neelix' culinary delights, and smiled. "No, well maybe not."

"Let me cook for you, Chakotay," she said brightly.

"Another Kathryn accomplishment I don't know about?"

She had the grace to look embarrassed. "Well, not actually cook, but I have an awful lot of replicator rations stored up. Even I can only drink so much coffee! What do you say, then? My quarters at 20.00 hours?"

He nodded. "I'll be prompt. I hear the captain gets ratty if you're late."

He was prompt. Dead on eight o'clock the chime rang on her door. She opened it and stood back to let him in. She had changed into a flowing green dress that he couldn't remember having seen before, its silky material clinging to curves usually hidden under the severity of her uniform. She had taken down her hair and the scent of perfume wafting over him stirred memories and hormones alike. He had dressed casually himself, in one of his favourite shirts, browns and tans mixing freely, over soft leather pants.

Dinner passed quickly in light conversation, but Chakotay noticed more than once the way she winced slightly when a particular movement proved too much for her neck injury. He helped her clear away the plates, standing close beside her at the disposal chute. The muscles on her neck bunched in sudden spasm, and he heard the soft intake of breath as she tried to breathe through the discomfort.

"Did the doctor leave you something for the pain?" he asked quietly.

She turned away from him slightly so he would not read the lie in her eyes. "I'm fine, Chakotay. It's just a twinge."

He put away the last of the dishes, then let his hands rest gently on her tense shoulders. Just that light caress seemed to hurt. "How about that massage now? Doctor's orders, remember." She had tensed under his touch, but allowed him to guide her to the couch. "Relax, Kathryn. I'm good at this, remember." He saw her nod, feeling her shoulders gradually relax, as his fingers pressed into muscles that were taut with pain. Finally she sighed, and gave in to the insistence of his fingers. He felt the movement of her skin under his palms, the material of her dress no barrier to the warmth her skin projected. Soft hair fell around her shoulders and he had to keep moving it out of his way, memories of their brief encounter at the waterfall filling his mind. After several moments his hands stilled.

"Maybe I should leave you to that hot bath now," he said, slowly backing away, knowing he would do something he would regret if he didn't put some space between them. "Yes, maybe you're right." Her eyes were dark pools as they watched him. "I was having some trouble with the thermostat earlier and haven't had a chance to get engineering to check it out yet. Would you have a look for me before you go?"

He stared at her in some surprise, then headed for the bathroom, coming to a dead halt in the doorway. She was beside him in a second, her hand resting gently on his arm, a smile curving her lips. "I couldn't bear to leave it behind," she told him softly.

The handmade tub he had so painstakingly fashioned for her on New Earth took pride of place in her small bathroom lovingly surrounded by a wide variety of green plants. It almost looked as though a tiny area of the planet had been transported back to the ship. 

"Kathryn, I don't know what to say."

She moved closer to him, her scent tickling at his senses. "Don't say anything, Commander," she whispered. "Just join me."


End file.
